


101 years and 2 months

by Withmaximumeffort



Series: 110 years [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 09:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12627546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withmaximumeffort/pseuds/Withmaximumeffort
Summary: It took 100 years to break the willful, obstinate, stubborn, unbreakable Harry James Potter. One year was all it took for the self-proclaimed Emperor of the European Wizarding World to realise this was not what he wanted from Harry James Potter at all.Thanks to CrazyJanaCat for letting me expand on this story!!!!





	1. 101 years

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [101 Years of Breaking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6892819) by [CrazyJanaCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJanaCat/pseuds/CrazyJanaCat). 



It took 100 years to break the willful, obstinate, stubborn, unbreakable Harry James Potter. The rush of watching those hateful green eyes dull and bend in submission to his every whim for the first time after he realized the world had forgotten about their saviour was unexplainable. Voldemort was shivering in pleasure for days after the surrender. He made sure to order his new slave to do the most inane things just to hear the sweet, sweet sounds of “Yes Master” escaping those bruised and chapped lips. The boy no longer complained, no longer talked back, no longer spoke out of turn, no longer demanded, no longer dared to look The Dark Emperor in the eye. He knew his place. Harry begged and pleaded for punishments like he wanted them.

Absolute Perfection.

Days turned to weeks turned to a month with no regression to past Harry-like behavior. No more false submissions. The boy was well and truly broken. Perfect.

A month turned to two turned to three and there was a small uncomfortable itch that Voldemort could not place. But each back breaking, head scraping bow from his dear ex-enemy temporarily soothed the irritation that was starting to build until the discomfort was pushed from the Dark Emperor’s mind.

Three months turned to five turned to seven and Voldemort was bored and enraged. The boy no longer made expressions or talked at all. He was a blank doll. He had captured some fools planning a coup d'etat of his reign, spouting the same foolishness of equality, love for all and the general naivety that allowed for the deterioration of the splendor of the Wizarding World in the first place. The new generation of Death Eaters had brought the dissenters to his personal dungeons for…stress relief as they noticed the Dark Emperor’s mood had took a turn for the worse in the past few months. 

Dragging Harry Potter to the dungeons with him was a great plan in theory. In the past, Potter would cringe, turn his eyes away and would occasionally shed beautiful tears of pain while he was made to watch the torture Voldemort would inflict. But this time, there was nothing. No flinch, no facing away, no covering his ears, no tears, no reaction. Just dull eyes staring straight ahead looking to barely register the surrounding events. By the time the torture session was finish, Voldemort's mood was worse than before. Plowing into that pliant body against the prison bars and making Potter watch the person die slowly while being violated did nothing for his enemy’s facial expression and immediately squandered Voldemort’s natural high from performing dark magic and orgasming. 

Potter was banished to his room without food for a week for displeasing his lord.

Seven months turned to nine turned to ten. Nothing worked. Finding redheads to murder (the Weasley line was already eradicated in Europe but he would occasionally find a redhead look alike to watch Potter in pain), nor locking Potter away brought about a response. There was no lingering fire or obstinacy in those eyes which meant there was no one willing or courageous enough to challenge the mighty Great Dark Emperor. It pissed him off to new uncharted heights.

Ten months turned to eleven months and fifteen days. It was then the man remembered exactly how much the boy hated being made to present his body and beg for the pleasure (mostly pain) he was forced to accept from his once enemy. Potter was called to his throne room while his Death Eaters looked on. When asked to strip, Potter stripped without care. When told to lay on floor on his back and hold his knees to his chest, again Potter did so without further prompting and with a face made of granite. Voldemort could feel his own face twist into a sneer of massive proportions, but he tried once more. Maybe there would be some response. When Potter was asked to beg, there was no shame, anger, defeat, tears, nose flaring rage, or disgust. Just a clinically detached voice coming from an equally detached visage. 

Voldemort’s magic unleashed in a maelstrom of potently negative emotions battering against his followers without a care for ally or foe. He barely registered the fleeing of his subjects in his intense study of the once Golden Boy lying prostrate on the ground unfazed by the increasing pressure of dark magic. 

Eleven months and fifteen days became twelve months.

One year was all it took for the self-proclaimed Emperor of the European Wizarding World to realise this was not what he wanted from Harry James Potter at all.


	2. 101 years and 2 months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was now 101 years and 2 months and Voldemort had never been more unhappy with his immortal life. Last chapter in this introduction into the series

It was now 101 years and 2 months and Voldemort had never been more unhappy with his immortal life. Potter still remained the perfect slave. No amount of taunting would return the passion to those green eyes that are now more reminiscent of fading, peeling green paint than the flashing emeralds they once were. He had dragged Potter with him to the negotiation with (note: intimidation of) the Eastern African Union of Magicians in the hopes that being in a different country for the first time might change his captive’s behavior. Potter was not impressed and never once observed his surroundings. Even The Dark Emperor looked around at the surrounding splendor of the EAUM main building, if only to mark all escape routes and easily defended areas.

 

While presenting his case for annexation of the EAU under the European World Wizards Union (note: threatening) a loud commotion and what felt like an earthquake shook the building. Voldemort absentmindedly observed as the surrounding dignitaries suddenly turned into frightened, newborn foal. The sounds of a skirmish were rising as whatever was going on was approaching the building. Never let it be known that a Dark Emperor was not curious. Voldemort rose to head towards the commotion with Potter on his heels. What he saw made him pause. 

 

An adult Nundu was attacking a crowd of no less than 200 wizards and witches who were barely surviving the toxic breath. 

 

Huh.

 

Potter still had that damnable non-expression on his face. Even as body parts were moving in perpendicular angles away from their respective individuals. It was quite bloody and awe inspiring in a “Don’t fuck with nature and dangerous shit” kind of way. Voldemort would look into acquiring a cub or capturing the rampaging beast if he wasn’t so damn sure it would be too much of a hassle. Besides, where would the damn thing fit? He doubted the Nundu would enjoy being under a shrinking spell for an extended amount of time. Plus knowing his oh so silent shadow, Harry, would probably be swallowed by the damn thing without any care.

 

Finally the beast was brought down, but 150 wizards were down as well. The other 50 were injured in some way. Voldemort slowly approached the downed creature, stepping over limbs and entrails with his silent shadow behind him. It was only when he reached a particularly aggressively destroyed body that he deduced the cause of the rampage. Not much was known about a Nundu since they were notoriously difficult to capture without loosing at least half of a hunting party. But what was known was their ferociousness, intelligence, intense dislike for anyone entering their territory and protectiveness towards progeny. So it was no true surprise to find one of these fools had taken 2 cubs, placed them in a cage and shrunk them. The cage was attached to a right hip that was now detached from its upper body and barely holding onto its leg. 

 

Voldemort bent to pick up the tiny mewling caged creatures. The cage automatically enlarged to the proper size to hold cubs that reached his hip. One was a yowling fierce thing throwing its body against the magically enforced cage while the other was much more silent and observant yet was standing in a ready position as if waiting for any unsuspecting idiot to open the cage.

 

How very intriguing. Maybe he should take one ho...

 

Voldemort very near pitched forward to grab the idiot when he noticed Harry kneel until he was face to face with the excitable cub. Voldemort was 2 seconds and a powerful stunning curse away from dragging the suicidal buffoon backwards and incapacitating the Nundu cub. There was this strange feeling, like his stomach and chest area were switching places and there was sweat building at the back of his neck and hands. It was an odd sensation, one he hadn’t felt in awhile and one he refused to name at this moment. 

 

Harry still remained as blank as ever but for a barely noticeable sparkle of light in his eyes. The animal had even calmed enough to stare into Harry’s eye’s before shuffling forward on its belly to sniff at Harry’s face and lick his cheek. Damn near gave Voldemort a heart attack. Apparently, Nundu’s can either control their toxic breath or the cubs had yet to develop it. 

 

But that was not the most important thing to happen. 

 

          There was a moment, one glorious moment where The Golden Boy looked just a little bit alive again, just a little bit more golden. Right before what little humanity was in his eyes disappeared, leaving behind a statue.

 

No matter the decision of the EAUM or the fucking shrinking spells that would be needed once it was an adult, that cub was coming home to London.

 

The Dark Emperor released the animals from their cage with his wand at the ready because he was confident he would be able to control both. The loud one surprisingly curled itself around Harry’s legs before laying down in a huff. The second one was a little more cautious while leaving its imprisonment. It sat on its haunches in front Voldemort, gave a clearly judging look up and down before walking around The Dark Emperor’s legs to sit at his side. How...odd. Nundu’s were notoriously intelligent. That’s why it took hundreds of wizards to bring it down. But these two showed an uncanny amount of smarts.

 

The leaders of the EAU froze before chattering amongst themselves in a rapid fire mix of  A mharic , Oromo, Tigrinya, Somali and Swahili that was damn near dizzying and a lot infuriating. The delegates were switching so fast his translator spell couldn’t keep up. It was quite fortunate the main spokesman decided to share his conclusions as the group was one more sentence away from a good community Crucio. The conclusion was interesting in a “Holy Shit Not Again” sort of way.”

 

Voldemort and Harry returned to London with two nindu cubs purring happily as Harry stroked both of them behind their ears along with a signed declaration of annexation. Apparently, Harry taming the Nundu was indicative of a Great Leader worthy of their loyalty. Having both of the cubs tamed indicated the beginnings of some prophecy on two leaders with two nundu familiars unifying the Global Wizarding World. 

 

Of course it was a damn prophecy.

 

\---

 

1 month later and Voldemort was convinced the cubs were the best and worst thing to ever trapeze their way into his castle. 

 

The damn excitable cub, Adroa, was fucking protective of its master and he swears his own, Adro, laughed at him while doing nothing to discourage the frankly disturbing mother hen nature of Adroa when it pertained to Harry. It was ridiculous. He had caught the damn thing glaring at him whenever he was close to its master or actually herding Harry away from Voldemort like a mother protecting its cub. The creatures were shoulder height now and one head-butt from Adroa sent Potter near toppling to the ground whenever it tried to move him. It would be more hilarious if the damn oversized cat wasn't moving Harry  _away_ from the Dark Emperor. At least the beast was smart enough not to attack Voldemort for fear of being skinned and used as a rug. Adroa occasionally needed to be reigned in when he became too much of a nuisance and Adro would usually wrangle his brother down to maintain order. 

 

But there were moments when those green eyes just slightly light-up with an inner glow or his former enemy would stop and watch the cubs play in the grass without moving. Voldemort figured having the rambunctious pains in the ass worthwhile. 

 

The Dark Emperor did a quick calculation as he watched Harry sit in the sun room with a giant cat head in his lap and another one at his feet. Hopefully it would take less than a year to re-break (unbreak?) Harry Potter so he was back to being his spunky self again and if the Dark Emperor had to put up with a cuddlewhore of a giant cat then that’s what the Dark Emperor will do. There was no one else capable of living with Voldemort through eternity. Might as well fix the one who can.


End file.
